I can feel the weight and importance of that little strip of grass that you knew so well as a child. There is a power in childhood memories that somehow connects universally even though they are not shared memories. You have let that keen child’s observation and deep emotion come through.

That so reminds me of the street where my great-grandparents lived. We used to pick clover in that strip of tatty grass for her budgie. And do you remember the different tunes of Mr Whippy and Mr Softy?

Came here late, but still very impressed with your tender nostalgia. I, of course, would never have used the term “dog mess”–but it works for you. We’ll leave the coarse language to the curmudgeons, right? It is wonderful to witness the clarity of recall relative to your childhood.

So so late to the reading….apologies. Kim: this is wonderful. Several years ago we took a “road trip” back to the town I grew up in. We drove by the house I lived in from age 2 to third grade. It was so sad to see….the lilac bushes I remember hiding in were gone. The porch I played dolls on with my pal Junie, was dilapidated and shedding its paint. The fence was gone. The garage where we stored my bike was replaced with a new garage…next to the dilapidated house. I took pictures but I felt so sad. The “dandelion clock” in your last line really hit home. All of this post did. I’m so glad I came here this morning. A wonderful write.